The harsh, unforgiving sunlight pierced through the grimy windows of the desolate train station, casting an eerie glow on Sukuna’s crimson visage. His mind, a tempest of rage and confusion, grappled with the impossible. He was back, trapped within the vessel he once despised—a phantom of his former self. Your figure materialized before him, a stark contrast to the barren wasteland surrounding them. Your voice, once a comforting melody, now grated on his senses. "We can end this now, Sukuna. It's not too late," you said, your words lost in the cacophony of his fury. Sukuna’s eyes, twin embers of hellfire, ignited with a ferocity that could incinerate worlds. His lips curled into a snarl as a silent promise of obliteration hung heavy in the air.